Seeing Angels
by Honeybee1111
Summary: A sequel to "The Little Miracle" and "Family Secrets", featuring the children of our heroes. Heavy on the OCs, featuring het and slash romances. TnT, Archer/Hernandez, Reed/Sato.
1. Prologue

Disclaimer: I don't own Trek; no profit made.

This is a sequel to my stories "Family Secrets" and "The Little Miracle".

This is a pretty OC-laden fic, since I've created a next generation of our heroes. TnT factor in the story, of course, since it is about their child. Thank you so much for the beta Misplaced and Aquarius. And thank you Aquarius for the valuable advice.

* * *

Many light years from Earth, a young Romulan smiled to himself as he looked around at his supervisor's office. The large window had an expansive view of the capital city, which glittered under the twilight. Hover cars whizzed by the window, and the city lights had begun to flicker to life. He sighed. He would miss this city, certain that no other civilization could ever match its beauty and sophistication, but he was exhilarated at the thought of his first deep cover assignment for the intelligence service.

"Your hair," his superior said. "The way it curls and falls over your ears. I would almost mistake you for a human."

"I'll take that as a compliment, sir," replied the younger man, who beamed. He had spent many months learning to carry himself like a human. He trained himself to swagger when he walked, to cock his head slightly when he spoke and to fold his arms when he was at rest.

The older man stared across the desk. "Do not let us down," he said. "For reasons you are well aware of, you are the only one of your class considered for this mission." He paused. "Have you chosen a name?"

The young man smiled. He'd been given several options, but he decided on the one that sounded the most Romulan.

"Dante," he replied.

His supervisor nodded in approval. It was the name of a human traveler - a poet - who journeyed into the underworld, and it was very close to his real name. He liked it. It felt right. He'd always wanted a human name, anyway.

He stood up, and he nodded formally. "You're dismissed. Good luck. Hopefully, you'll only be on Earth for a few weeks."

"I shall return with the treasure in hand," replied Dante, as he stood up and headed for the door.

It wasn't as though he wasn't a loyal Romulan. Given his unusual parentage, he had always worked harder at being a perfect Romulan than all the other boys his age. He hadn't had a choice.

Nevertheless, he had always wanted to see his mother's homeworld, and now he had his chance.


	2. Chapter 1

T'Mir Tucker was tinkering with a giant instant, traditional process film camera that her dad had helped her build. The camera was so giant, it was roughly the size of her dorm room, and she was perched on its top, adjusting a setting with an old fashioned wrench. She had an upcoming art show, and she wanted to integrate the large-sized, old-fashioned images into the exhibit. The large scale photos produced by the camera could not be duplicated by a digital process.

Her studio was quiet, located in a far far-flung corner of her campus's art building. Given the fact that she was a prodigy and did not need art classes, her major was art history. The school provided her the large studio in exchange for teaching a class. She could have forgone an education and just made her art, but she wanted the experience of university as well as education in other areas.

T'Mir blew a stray brown hair from her face. The unruly strand had fallen from the blue silk headband she'd used to wrap her ears and tie her hair back. The dual purpose suited her. She needed her hair out of her face, and she often covered her pointed ears so she wouldn't be recognized.

T'Mir had been born famous, the first healthy offspring of a Human male and a Vulcan female. On top of that, she had developed gifts. Her skill at visual arts - specifically at painting and drawing - had led some to speculate that Dr. Phlox had augmented her while in her mother's womb. While he had needed to take steps to ensure her survival, as her implausible conception was apparently a complete surprise to her parents, Dr. Phlox had insisted that he had done nothing to genetically enhance T'Mir.

In other words, T'Mir's freakish abilities were a complete mystery. Both Vulcan and Human scientists had imaged her brain. They all agreed that the scans indicated a high level of creativity and visual acuity, but they didn't know why. She was a medical mystery on two planets.

She heard a knock on the door as it simultaneously opened. A Starfleet captain with a mop of sandy hair and a greying beard walked in, and his eyes lit up when he saw the camera.

"Hi Daddy," she said.

"Hi, honey," he replied, grinning as he spied her on her perch. "Do think we can fire her up today?"

T'Mir jumped down from the top of the camera. "We'd better. I've only got a month before the deadline."

She hugged her dad briefly, then she grinned. "How's Mom? And the brothers?"

"Mom is terrorizing new recruits," replied Trip, "and Charlie's made the football team. Lorian is going to spend a gap year on Vulcan."

T'Mir nodded. There were times she actually missed her brothers, even the stiff, humorless Lorian.

"Who are you going to photograph first?" asked her Dad.

T'Mir smiled. "Hank. He's volunteered to be my lab rat."

Trip looked surprised. "You're in touch with Henry? Last time I saw his Mom and Dad they said they haven't been in touch for months."

T'Mir shrugged. Henry Archer was around her age, and she considered him a brother from another mother. Truth be told, she enjoyed Hank's company far more than her own brother Lorian. "Hank doesn't like to be around people disappointed in him."

"They're not disappointed. They're worried," replied Trip sternly, "and frankly, I'll be worried if you start spending too much time with him."

T'Mir glared at her father. Hank wasn't a saint, but as far as she was concerned his major crime was being too little like his legendary parents. "I'll make sure I log the hours. I'll let you know if I reach _too much_."

T'Mir's tone indicated she no longer wanted to discuss the matter. Her dad gave her a rueful look, but he knew her better than to press her. T'Mir was a Tucker, and Tuckers were loyal to their friends. She knew deep down her dad couldn't object too much to that.


	3. Chapter 2

"What is this stuff?" asked T'Mir skeptically, looking down at the champagne flute filled with blue liquid.

"Romulan ale," said Hank with a laugh.

They were laying on a blanket on an abandoned stretch of beach not far from one of Starfleet's auxiliary landing pad. It was dark, and no stars shone in the sky thanks to a blanket of fog that had rolled in from the bay. T'Mir could hear sea lions barking in the distance.

"We haven't even seen them, but we have their booze?" asked T'Mir.

Hank giggled. He looked at her with piercing green eyes and thick lashes, which were so like his father's. His features were like Uncle Jonathan's, too, except that Hank was thinner with a slightly more delicate face. More pretty than rugged. His hair and skin tone came from the Hernandez side of the family. His lips were red naturally, but he liked to enhance them with ruby red lipstick. Occasionally, as he had tonight, he would powder some glitter on his face.

"The drink is amazing," Hank whispered, "It's like absinthe times a thousand. It doesn't just get you high. It helps you see and feel things. Amazing things."

T'Mir's heart started to beat faster in her chest. The reason she needed to paint and draw and photograph, the reason she always had to express herself was because so many worlds danced in her head. If she closed her eyes and concentrated, she could see so many possibilities, different timelines. Different versions of herself. Different versions of her parents and brothers. Sometimes better. Sometimes far worse. She dreamt about these different universes. It was mostly images, and she had a hard time making any sense out of it unless she concentrated very hard. Meditation helped keep the visions at bay, but the only thing that worked to truly banish the images was capturing them in her art.

"I'm not like normal people," she whispered, looking at her drink.

Hank gave her his boyish smile, the one that everyone always found so disarming. "That's why I wanted you to have some. Maybe it will help. Maybe it will help you with your art. You know, help with the things you see when you close your eyes."

T'Mir looked around, though she knew it was illogical to do so because nobody would be around. "Medications have never helped me," she said.

Hank leaned over. "That's because the doctors who gave them to you wanted to stop your visions. Stop you from being who you are. They never wanted to help you _be_ who you are."

T'Mir closed her eyes. All her life she'd been dogged by the terrible augmentation rumors. Phlox _had_ been cleared at the inquest, but doubts lingered. T'Mir had first heard about them on the playground in the form of loud taunts. Now, they were mere whispers.

T'Mir smiled softly, and she stared at Hank. Life hadn't been easy for him, either. His grandfather was the great engineer. His mother was the great captain. His father had saved the world. Hank, on the other hand, had turned out _artistic_. It was as though the universe, out of a sense of balance and/or irony, had sent Jonathan Archer an opposite of himself. He was a beautiful opposite, of course. Kind. Shy. Funny. More interested in designing clothes than engines. More interested in planning parties than leading people into the unknown. When they were in middle school, Hank had told her that the hardest part was watching his parents try so hard to accept who he was. They loved him, but they didn't _get_ him.

T'Mir downed the glass of blue liquid.

Hank gasped. "Well, you didn't have to chug it," he said sipping on his.

T'Mir was dizzy, she closed her eyes and she could see things. She saw The Expanse, where she supposedly had never been. She saw anomalies ripping apart time and space. She saw a world with no Earth. She saw the Vulcan sky with no moon. Everything was wrong, but that was where she belonged.

T'Mir's body collapsed the blanket. She was completely aware of Hank next to her, finishing his drink, laughing and jumping up to run around, but he was like a shadow.

Eventually, she sat up, and she saw him stand at the edge of the water.

"A shuttle is coming," he said.

She got to her feet and scrambled to join him. They could see the lights of the shuttle approaching.

"It moves fast," she said.

"Damn straight," he said.

It zoomed over their head, creating an intense wake of heat and air that knocked T'Mir and Hank off their feet and onto the sand. Colors whirled around them. The ale made it so they could see the hot air.

"That was crazy," she said breathlessly. "If it were a few feet lower, we'd be dead." She laughed out loud, adrenalized from the risk and shock to her body.

"The question is, T'Mir," replied Hank, "do you wish it had been lower?"

Their eyes met. "No. Not tonight," she replied.

He appeared to think for a moment. "Me neither. At least not tonight." He reached out and grabbed her hand and squeezed it. "I love you, you know. As a friend."

She squeezed back. "I wouldn't have it any other way. You're the only friend I've got."


	4. Chapter 3

T'Mir stood in the middle of the echoey gallery, looking at her photographs. There were large scale, full-length portraits of all kinds of people. Vulcans. Humans. Andorians. Tellarites. Some were old. Some were young. Some were right in the middle. One of T'Mir's favorites was Ambassador Soval, looking as stern and wise as any old Vulcan should. Her little brother Charlie was also among the sitters, smiling with mischief. Hank had been the first to pose, dressed in an old fashioned jacket with a white shirt and formal top hat.

"It's going to be fine," said Hank, who, so he would not have to look at himself, sat in the corner next to his own image. "These are different from your paintings, sure. But nobody's seen images like these in forever."

T'Mir looked around. "It helps to have an engineering genius as a father, I suppose," she sighed. "I wouldn't have been able to build the camera without him."

T'Mir's parents had always loved her, but they had never really known how to react to her creativity. Dad was an engineer, and Mom was a scientist. But they had both helped her research and build the camera. T'Pol had even helped T'Mir with a lighting scheme to optimize the black and white of the images.

"So," said Hank, "Why didn't you get your mom and dad to pose? Or Lorian? Lorian has great bone structure."

T'Mir walked over to one of oversized prints and removed a spec of debris that clung to it. "Mom and Dad turned me down. They don't like attention. I didn't ask Lorian because he's irritating and dull."

Hank smirked. "You know, people will like these pictures. But they'll still ask if you're painting anything."

T'Mir nodded. "I just wanted to do something different. Something that is more rooted in the outside world than the world in my head."

Hank scrambled to his feet. "Well, I'd best get home and shower and change. I want to look my best in case this picture wins me any groupies tonight."

He crossed the room, and T'Mir gave him a quick hug before entwining her fingers in his. "I hope so. It would be apt payment if I got you laid."

"We can hope," he said, and he dashed off.

* * *

In an empty storefront across from the gallery, Dante peered through his digital spyglass and into the gallery. The young human male had just left, leaving T'Mir Tucker alone with her pictures. Dante stared at the girl, who was animated and graceful in a way the still images of her had not captured. The dossier he had been given on her had been mostly correct except it had not mentioned a mate. The mate complicated matters, for the young human would undoubtedly miss her sooner rather than later. He would also make it more difficult for Dante to get her attention and win her trust.

He sighed. She often wore scarves around her head to hide her pointed ears or when she wore no scarf, she made sure her hair fell over them. He remember being a boy and obtaining some brown contact lenses. The pigment had proven a slight irritant, and so he always appeared to be on the verge of tears. On top of that, everyone from his father to his schoolmates had ridiculed him. He had tossed them into the ocean near his father's house. After that, he'd resolved never to hide who he was again.

Of course, now he _was_ hiding. His dream job demanded it. He reached up and felt the wool cap he was using to make sure the day's wind wouldn't reveal his own pointed ears. If he was found out, he would claim to be Vulcan, blue eyes or no, but he wanted to avoid such an encounter.

He sighed. He had obtained a set of human clothes appropriate for the opening at a shop adjacent to the university. He had told the young clerk he was looking to get the attention of a young woman, and the clerk told Dante that he should avoid "trying too hard" and recommended a simple t-shirt with a tweed jacket and black pants made of an organic material.

Dante put the clothes on, rethinking his plan to charm the young woman into coming with him. He tried to reformulate his plan, but then decided to observe the girl and then speak to her before making any final decisions.


	5. Chapter 4

The turnout had been bigger than T'Mir expected. Stanford wasn't the end of the world, but she usually held openings in London or New York, where the art crowd was bigger. She hadn't thought there would be so much interest in the photographs. But the crowd spilled out into the front street, with people milling around clutching drinks.

Her throat was dry from all the pleasant talking so she sipped on some water.

"You're doing admirably," said her mother, who stood at her side and was dressed in a beautiful silk set of robes. "You have spoken to many of these guests and been patient with their many questions."

"Thank you," replied T'Mir with a sigh. She couldn't help notice that half the men in the room had eyes trained on her young-looking mother, but her mother only had eyes for her father, who stood on the other side of the gallery talking to a black-leather-clad Hank. T'Mir couldn't imagine what they could be talking about, but Hank didn't look upset. Her dad did have a way of putting people at ease.

T'Mir watched as Hank showed off his black, sparkly nail polish to Trip, and Trip laughed at something he said. Hank could be charming in his own right.

"Your father and I will be going soon," said T'Pol. "He believes you'll enjoy this social occasion more in the absence of your parents."

T'Mir glanced at her mother. "That's illogical. I _never_ have fun at these things."

T'Pol nodded slightly and paused. "That is incorrect. When you were eight years old, you enjoyed being able to stay up past your bedtime."

T'Mir smiled and downed her water. "That's true. You're right as usual, mother." She looked around the room, and she realized that she may well have spoken a few words to everyone. They had come to support her and her work, so it was the least she could do.

Her eyes scanned the room, and then she saw someone she didn't recognize. A young man with brown hair that curled just enough so he looked rumpled and cheekbones that would make a Vulcan proud. He stood alone, clutching a glass of wine and staring at one of the giant photos. T'Mir swallowed nervously, and then she blushed just slightly when she realized she was staring.

He must be a student, she reasoned. He came to see her work, too. It would be rude not to speak to him.

"Hello, darling," came a familiar voice. T'Mir turned and saw that her dad had joined them, and was kissing her mother on the cheek in what was a rare display of public affection.

"Thanks again for your help with the camera," said T'Mir.

Her dad smiled. "It was fun," he said.

"And thanks for talking to Hank," said T'Mir.

Her parents gave each other a look. "He's doing fine," she said. "He's going to classes mostly. His teachers like him..." Her voice trailed off.

"You're a loyal friend, kiddo," said Trip. "Just be careful."

She nodded, and then her parents said goodnight and left. T'Mir turned her attention to the handsome stranger, and then she sighed. He was talking to Hank, and Hank's eyes had widened in size about three times, and he had this big, dopey grin. T'Mir bit her lip, and she suppressed her disappointment. Hank needed a little joy in his life, and that guy looked like he embodied joy.

So, T'Mir steered clear, only occasionally glancing over at Hank and the stranger as they talked. Occasionally the stranger glanced over at her, as though he might want to speak to her, but T'Mir hung back. She didn't want to go grabbing the spotlight from Hank.

But eventually, the crowd thinned out, and only a few people were left and the young Andorian gallery manager shooed them out.

T'Mir gestured at Hank and the stranger, who were by this time sitting in chairs near the door, still taking. "They're with me."

The gallery manager nodded. "You have the codes to lock up. Make sure you power the lights down."

"Thanks for everything," said T'Mir as the manager took her leave.

The stranger looked up at her, Hank's head was on his shoulder. She strode over to them, and she held out her hand. "I'm T'Mir, but of course you probably know that."

He smiled, and she felt a little blush once again. He took her hand. He had the most piercing and wonderful blue eyes. More icy than her own. Like an Andorian sky.

"I'm Dante," he said, "and I've wanted to talk to you all night. I admire your work."

"Thanks," she replied. "Thanks for entertaining Hank. He's really drunk," said T'Mir.

"I can see that," replied the stranger, with a rueful smile. "He's been swigging from a flask all evening. He offered me a sip earlier, it's strong stuff."

T'Mir wondered if it was the Romulan Ale, and whether or not the son of the President of the Federation ought to be offering contraband to handsome strangers. But Dante didn't appear scandalized. She also noticed a slight accent that she didn't recognize. She wondered for a moment if he was from a colony and not Earth proper.

Hank, whose eyeliner was smudgey and lipstick gone, made a noise, and then he looked up. "Dante," he said, "would you like to help me get back to my place? I'm not sure I can make it on my own."

Dante appeared about to reply, but Hank laid his head down on Dante's shoulder and closed his eyes again. T'Mir leaned forward and whispered at Dante. "Look," she said sternly, "I'm not going to let you go home with him. He's easy, but he likes to remember it when he has sex with incredibly handsome strangers."

Dante's eyes widened, and he looked down at Hank's sleeping form. "Oh, oh," he stuttered. "No. I thought...I didn't know...

T'Mir stared at him. Had she misjudged him? "So, you're not trying to get with Hank?"

He looked into her eyes. "It's not Hank I'm interested in."

T'Mir blushed, and then she looked down at her feet hoping to look coy rather than shocked and terrified. If she had had any notion that this gorgeous man played for her team, she probably wouldn't have been able to string a sentence together in front of him.

"Well," she replied, "no comment on that, but he doesn't live far from here. My vehicle is outside. I think together we can help him back to his place."

Dante nodded. "I think that sounds like an excellent idea."

With that, the two of them helped Hank to his feet. He mumbled, but eventually was able to walk partially under his own power as they they headed for T'Mir's vintage jeep, which had been another project she'd completed with her dad.

Dante appeared strong as he practically hoisted Hank into the back seat. "You're my hero, man," said Hank as he collapsed in the back.

T'Mir shut the door. Her eyes met Dante's. "I promise it's not far," she said, thinking that he was her hero as well.


	6. Chapter 5

T'Mir had parked her jeep near Hank's apartment, and together she and Dante had gotten him up the stairs and into the living room. One of Hank's arms was around T'Mir and the other around Dante, but he managed to assist them by walking a bit.

Considering what a mess Hank was personally, he always kept his place fairly neat. He didn't have as many things as T'Mir, and his decor was almost spartan. The only thing on the wall was one of T'Mir's large scale paintings, which she had dedicated to him. It portrayed a dreamscape of color, and a very dark world where there was no Federation but a frightening Empire.

The apartment was small, with a combination kitchen, living room and a bedroom off to one side.

"Where does he sleep?" asked Dante, staring at the painting.

"Why do you ask?" giggled Hank.

"Does he ever give up?" asked Dante.

T'Mir giggled. "He's very optimistic," she replied.

"Well," replied Dante, "I"m very flattered. If I were to take up with a man, it would be you, Hank."

Hank laughed. "You're sweet, but you don't have to pretend you weren't using me to get to T'Mir. She could use someone in her life willing to use me to get to her. Usually it's the other way around."

T'Mir sighed. "His bedroom is that way."

They led Hank to the bedroom, which basically had a giant, too-big-for-the-space bed and a dresser. Hank moved toward the bed and collapsed.

"Shouldn't you take off your boots, at least?" asked T'Mir.

"Too drunk to untie them," mumbled Hank.

T'Mir looked at Dante, and he looked a back at her with a soft grin. They stepped forward, almost in unison, reached down and unlaced Hank's boots and pulled them off his feet, revealing black socks. There was a hole in the left one, and Hank was already snoring lightly. T'Mir took one edge of the comforter and folded it so Hank's body was covered up.

She and Dante then headed back into the living room, closing the door behind them.

"I don't want to leave him just yet," she said, then paused. "Do you want coffee?"

She walked into the kitchen and she pressed some buttons on the coffee maker, and it began to warm up.

"Yes," he said, "I'll have some.

T'Mir placed two mugs beneath the dispenser.

"I take mine with almond milk. I'm a vegetarian. It's part of my Vulcan side," she said.

"I'm not a vegetarian," said Dante, "but I'll have my coffee your way. It sounds good."

T'Mir heard a very slight, odd lilt in Dante's vowels. "You talk funny," she said. "Where did you grow up? Are you a boomer?"

He nodded. "In a manner of speaking, I was born far away during the war, like you."

"How do you know where I was born?" she asked.

"I looked up your biography before the show," he said. "To be honest, I didn't think I'd even get to talk to you tonight. I just wanted to see your work. You're famous."

T'Mir's heart started to beat. He knew of her. Of course. Everyone did. That didn't necessarily mean he wanted to date her because of that. In fact, a lot of guys were freaked out by the hybrid thing. Dante didn't seem freaked.

"Are you from one of the outer colonies?" she asked, handing him a mug.

"I was born on a ship, like you. Just _before_ the war, actually" he said. "But my mother was from Wisconsin. She used to tell me of a lake the size of an ocean, but with fresh and clear water that was drinkable. Lush green trees. Sea birds with white feathers."

"I went there once," she said. "My mother attended a conference. It was very pretty. Are you a student?"

He shook his head. "I graduated from school last year."

T'Mir glanced over at the couch. "Do you want to sit down? I mean, I know it's late, if you need to go, that's fine. I don't need as much sleep..." her voice trailed off. She was always a little uncomfortable mentioning her heritage to humans.

"I don't feel like sleeping," he said as he made his way to the couch.

She watched him sit down, and then she delicately sat down next to him.

* * *

Dante took a sip of the warm brew - coffee - that humans liked so much. His mother had once made a list of that which she missed about earth. Coffee was high up. She was right. It was earthy and dark and delicious. Just bitter enough to be complicated. He enjoyed the scent as well.

He stared over at T'Mir, and he realized he liked her. If he could exploit that like, and the fact that she clearly liked him - it would make his mission easier. He just needed to make sure that he kept control of that affection and didn't let it cloud his judgment. He reminded himself that there were no plans to harm the girl, only study her genes and her strange ability to see other timelines. She was far too precious to harm.

So far, he had not even technically lied to her. Everything he had told her was the truth. Sure, there was the matter of the lie of omission, but that didn't worry him.

He didn't want to lie to her. Of course, that was part of his training, to tell the fewest lies, but he felt like he wanted to tell her no lies. Sure, he would have to omit things, but this young woman probably knew more of what he felt inside than anyone he'd ever met. She knew what it was to know your genes had been artificially knitted together, and to dream about them tearing apart.

Suddenly, Dante heard a groan coming from the bedroom. T'Mir looked over at the door.

"I'm going to see if Hank needs some water," she said as she went to the sink and proceeded to fill a glass. Dante put his mug down, and he stood up. He followed her into the bedroom.

He was sprawled on the bed, smiling. T'Mir strode over and handed him the glass. Hank sat up and drank. "You're a beautiful person," he said.

T'Mir yawned. "This beautiful person is tired. I want to go home."

"No," Hank replied, "stay. Please. Sleep here." Hank turned to Dante. "You can sleep on the other side of me. I'll be your chaperone."

Dante glanced at T'Mir, and she glanced back. Both of them were silent.

"Oh come on," said Hank, "I'm way too out of it to try anything untoward."

Dante considered this strange friendship ritual. It was odd, but he decided to play along. He reached down and removed his shoes. T'Mir did the same, obviously taking his action as agreement. She barely met his gaze, however.

The two of them crawled under the blankets on either side of Hank. Dante found the bedclothes very soft, and he found the mattress very comfortable. He settled in quicker than he would have expected.

"One big happy family," said Hank, as he went back to sleep.

And before he knew it, Dante too was in a deep and pleasant sleep.


	7. Chapter 6

Clutching a white box, T'Mir ascended the steps of an old Victorian house in San Francisco, one that had been lovingly restored to its former glory and painted in beautiful pastels. Flowers fountained out of window boxes, and the front door was made of wood and antique beveled glass. Above the door hung a newer glass pane, with an IDIC etched into it with elegant Vulcan script.

She had grown up here, when she wasn't on a starship or on Vulcan, and she opened the door gradually. Even though she didn't officially live here anymore, her dad always insisted she use the security code and not knock.

"Hello," she said.

Her little brother, Charlie, bounded down the stairs.

"Hey, you," she said.

"What's in the box?" said Charlie, grinning as he practically slid across the floor.

"Pecan pie from the bakery near campus," replied T'Mir. "Mom had me pick it up for you and dad as surprise."

"And you'll eat it after dinner," said a stern voice.

T'Mir looked up, and she saw her brother Lorian standing at the top of the stairs. Despite his constant, sourpuss expression, he looked a great deal like their dad, albeit with sharper features and pointed ears.

Lorian was merely three months younger than T'Mir. He was the product of an embryo created in a lab and raised in a glass tank with the express purpose of donating blood to their mother. The blood helped keep T'Pol's body from rejecting T'Mir, and so T'Mir basically owed Lorian her life. She reminded herself of this often, so she would be able to tolerate his insufferable company. While T'Mir embraced her human side, filled with visions and passion and art, Lorian aspired to be an engineer and wanted his life orderly. Their father had often joked that T'Mir had been born with only ID while Lorian had been born with only Ego. Even though there was no scientific basis for it, T'Mir always suspected Lorian's humorlessness came from being raised in a glass tank.

After Lorian, a second embryo had been created, and that was Charlie, but her parents had waited seven years so that T'Pol could carry him naturally. Charlie was the spitting image of their father, in looks and personality. Affable, athletic and adventurous.

"Good," said a feminine voice from the kitchen. "You are all here. You may join your father outside on the deck. He is grilling vegetables for dinner."

The boys both obeyed their mother, but T'Mir went into the kitchen to find her mother preparing bread for their meal.

"Hello," said T'Mir. "I brought the pie like you asked. Dad will love it."

T'Pol nodded, and she took the pie and put it into the refrigeration unit.

"How was the rest of the opening?" asked T'Pol.

"Fine," she replied, her heart starting to beat faster. She was not interested in telling her family about spending that night at Hank's or that she had done so in the company of a very intriguing young man.

_"So," she said awkwardly as they had said goodbye, "Thanks for the company. It was fun talking to you."_

_"I'd like to talk to you more," replied Dante. "May I take you out sometime? Without Hank?"_

_"Of course," replied T'Mir. _

T'Mir really hadn't had any boyfriends. Her hybrid background, her "issues" with visions and her fear of creating a permanent telepathic bond with someone had made her avoid romance. But she was getting older, and she liked Dante. She hoped that he would contact her.

"The show received good notices on Art Wire this morning," said her mother.

T'Mir squinted. "You have Art Wire on your feed?" she asked.

"I have all news stories featuring your name on my feed," replied T'Pol.

T'Mir nodded. That made sense. That also meant she should probably be careful about seeing Dante in public, in case the campus gossip site picked it up. Their stories would show up in her mother's feed.

T'Mir walked to the window. She saw Charlie and her Dad working on the grill together. Lorian stood with his hand behind his back, and he appeared to be making suggestions.

"I almost brought Hank, but he's not feeling well."

"Hangover treatments are available," replied her mother, who handed her a basket of bread. "Hank will always be welcome here...and your father and I will not discuss his visit with Jonathan and Erika."

T'Mir nodded. Sometimes her human friends felt sorry for her, having a Vulcan mother, thinking she must be cold and unfeeling. They had no idea what they were talking about.

* * *

Dante stared down at his communication device. He was confident T'Mir would respond to his request to take her out socially, but he wasn't sure where he should take her. He knew the basics of human courtship rituals, and so he planned on taking her to a restaurant. But he wasn't sure what kind. There was a Vulcan restaurant near campus, but he thought she might not want a reminder of her heritage. Yet, she didn't eat meat.

He sighed. His training had not prepared him for decisions like this.

And it was vitally important that T'Mir enjoy her evening. He had formulated a plan. After a few romantic outings, he would ask her away for a short trip. At that time, he'd take her to his ship and put her in stasis. By the time her family and friends realized she was missing, his ship would be half way home. Hank would be ideal for the purpose of creating a distraction, no doubt explaining T'Mir's absence to everyone as a romantic interlude.

It was a simple plan, but it depended on her liking him enough to go away with him. That part was complicated, and to his surprise, Dante realized he actually wanted the girl to like him. His heart constricted a little bit when he though about staring into his blue eyes, so like his own. He hadn't known anyone with blue eyes since his mother died. She was also charming, and her artwork rivaled that of the best Romulan artist.

He sighed. "The humans don't understand how rare she is. How important he gifts are. My people will make use of her. She might even learn to like her new situation, once she understands," he said under his breath to no one in particular.

He tapped into the communicator.

_Hello. Any suggestions for a quiet dinner near campus? I'm not from around here, so I'll let you pick. Dante._


	8. Chapter 7

T'Mir looked across the table at Dante, and she smiled softly. He had never been to a Japanese restaurant before, which was a little bewildering to her, but she reminded herself that some of the outer colonies were quite austere. She knew boomers who were the same way, always surprised at discovering Brazilian food or Russian vodka or music made via analog instruments.

Dante picked up how to use chopsticks very quickly, and he seemed to really enjoy the raw fish. T'Mir stuck to her vegetarian choices.

"Everything tastes wonderful," he said softly as he popped a piece of whitetail into his mouth. "I'm so glad you suggested this place."

"Well," she replied, "It's a nice walk back to my place from here. Of course, we don't have to go home. We could stop on the way home for a drink."

He glanced at her. "Are you a big drinker?"

She shook her head. "The Vulcan half of me translates into a high tolerance. I need to drink a lot to feel a buzz. I don't have the patience to get drunk. You?"

He bit his lip. "I come from a place where you're expected to be able to drink a lot - strong stuff - and tolerate it. You don't have to worry about me getting myself in the state your friend Hank was in the other night."

T'Mir gestured to the waiter that they needed the check. "You were so good with him," she said. "Thank you."

Dante sighed. "You're a compassionate friend."

T'Mir rolled her eyes. "You know, his father is this great hero. A man's man. A great explorer. War hero. Politician. Everything Jonathan Archer does, he does it better than everyone else. Being his son would be hard under any circumstances. And I don't care how tolerant society is of homosexuals, they are still not the norm. And Hank couldn't be more different from his dad on top of that." T'Mir paused. "I guess that's why we've bonded. It's not the norm to be half Vulcan, that's for sure."

The waitress brought the bill to Dante, and he reached for it. "It's difficult to be an outsider, being different from what everyone expects you to be," he said as produced his credit chip.

"Do you want me to leave the tip?" asked T'Mir.

He shook his head. "I've got it," he replied.

When he'd finished, he got up and helped her out of her chair. As they walked out of the restaurant, she felt his hand on the small of her back, warm through her dress. She wondered if her presence made him warm, given her high body temperature.

"We could get a drink or just walk along the promenade overlooking the park?"

"A walk would be great," he said.

He took her hand, and she led him in that direction. They walked, and they talked about her art, and her parents and the fact that she'd been born in space, during the war. He said he'd been born just as it began as well. Neither of them had any real memories of it. Dante seemed quiet about his background, but she assumed this was because her parents were famous and that probably intimidated him.

Finally, they reached a bench and they sat down. She glanced over at him, curly hair and cheek bones and glorious blue eyes. He was so handsome, and he felt strong to her. Most boys felt like waifs to her Vulcan side, but he didn't.

He turned to her, and all of a sudden, he leaned down and he kissed her on the lips. She kept her eyes open for a moment, and then she began to respond to the heat of his mouth, opening her mouth to his exploring tongue. She nearly swooned, and she put her arms around his firm waist. His hands came to her face. They kissed for a long while.

"Do you want to go back to your apartment?" he whispered.

She jumped back slightly. "Yes. But not. That's not a good idea," she stumbled.

He looked at her, puzzled.

T'Mir folded her arms, but their bodies still touched. "It's...complicated. So, so complicated." She felt her face turning warm. She knew her cheeks would be green, something that would wave a sign at him how weird she was.

"Explain, then," he said, more kindly than she expected. He even took her hand.

T'Mir sucked in a big breath, she looked at her shoes, and she suddenly wondered why she wore the black pumps with the little bows and whether Dante would think she was frivolous. She spoke in a low, whispering voice. "Okay, well, Vulcans are telepathic. I don't know if that's common knowledge, but it's true. They keep it quiet. Like they keep _everything_ quiet. And anyway, Vulcans form these intense mind bonds with their mates. And my parents? Well, they had sex only once. And a _bond_ formed. I mean, yeah, mom says that they were seriously into each other before that...but the point is that they couldn't control it. And for Vulcans it's like being _married_. So, they were kind of stuck with each other after that."

T'Mir closed her eyes. She had never, ever told anyone this. She had just always avoided romantic attachments, blowing off and/or ignoring any guy who showed an interest. She waited for Dante to say something, to freak out or let her down easy. After all, what guy wants a girl that you could accidentally bond to if you got too into each other?

There was nothing but silence, and a strange sense of peace. A peaceful feeling she suddenly realized was coming not from her own mind but Dante's mind. He squeezed her hand. She opened her eyes, and she looked up into his.

"Is that all?" he asked.

She nodded.

"So, we can't have sexual relations until we're very serious with one another? You know, that's the norm in many cultures? Including your mother's?" He asked the last questions non-rhetorically.

"It's not really the norm among humans, although everyone is free to make their own choices," she replied.

Dante laughed. "Well, I say we make our own choices then. Come on, I'll walk you home."

T'Mir smiled, and they stood up and walked hand in hand back towards her place. She felt like a weight had been lifted off her, and she even allowed a thread of happiness to begin to creep into her mind.

* * *

Even in the kitchen, Trip could hear the soft squeak of the old fashioned breaks on T'Mir's jeep. He had restored the antique vehicle just for her, and he was intimately familiar with its workings. Familiar enough to recognize that she had someone in the passenger seat.

He put down a dish towel and headed to the front window. He spied T'Mir and Hank walking up the front window. Trip smiled to himself. Yes, Hank's warp-speed level problems were cause for concern, but he provided companionship for T'Mir without making any romantic demands on her. It wasn't that Trip didn't want T'Mir to settle down eventually, but she was still quite young.

T'Pol had several times suggested finding a Vulcan mate for their daughter, but Trip had objected. Lorian? Any Vulcan father would be quite content with him as a son-in-law. Lorian tended to out-Vulcan most Vulcans. But T'Mir? Between her strange visions and artistic temperament, no amount of acclaim and genius would make her a good Vulcan wife.

"Father?" said a voice.

_Speak of the devil_, thought Trip.

"What's up, Lorian?" asked Trip amiably.

"I was wondering if you would mind if I excused myself from dinner? T'Mir isn't here often, and perhaps you and mother would rather focus all your attention on her and her guest? I could take Charlie down to the pier for pizza."

Trip grinned. "Hank and T'Mir's chatter too much for you?"

Lorian sighed, and he placed his hands behind his back. "You know I have nothing but respect for T'Mir's work ethic and abilities."

Trip bit his lip. "If Charlie wants to go, you go ahead. Or else you can just go alone. But be sure to at least say hello to your sister."

Trip sighed. He had been much closer to his own sister, Elizabeth, than Hank was with T'Mir, but he didn't want Lorian to have any regrets if the worst happened.

Lorian nodded.

The front door opened, and in strode T'Mir and Hank, who brought with them pearls of laughter.

"Hi Dad!" said T'Mir.

"Hello, Captain Tucker!" said Hank, who was clutching T'Mir's hand.

Trip glanced at Lorian, who nodded and then turned to the pair.

"Good evening," he said formally.

T'Mir and Hank glanced at each other. "How are things in logic land?" asked T'Mir, who was not disguising the teasing in her voice.

"Balanced and peaceful," replied Lorian smoothly.

Trip glanced at his son. Trip recognized the tell tale twitching of his mouth that meant he was irritated. His mother did the same thing.

Hank sighed. "I envy you the balance and peace, man. I really do."

T'Mir rolled her eyes. "It's overrated, Hank."

Trip smiled, remembering how a sixteen-year-old T'Mir had gone AWOL from a meditation retreat on Mt. Seleya. It was, in fact, Lorian who had tracked her down at an artist colony on the other side of the planet. Trip and T'Pol had learned a valuable lesson about T'Mir. She could not handle being away from her art materials for too long, because no amount of meditation stopped the visions in her head. She had to draw or paint or photograph to stop them. Being at the monastery had caused T'Mir so much distress, that Trip and T'Pol couldn't even be angry with her. She was merely taking care of her own sanity by going where she needed to go.

"Well," said Lorian, "I hope you two enjoy your meal. I'm taking Charlie for pizza down at the pier."

With that, Lorian ascended the stairs, no doubt going to inform his younger brother of his new evening itinerary.

"You shouldn't be so hard on him," said Hank once Lorian was out of earshot, surprising both Trip and T'Mir.

Both Trip and T'Mir looked at Hank.

"What?" continued Hank. "He can't help it if he didn't get our chaos genes!"

T'Mir smiled. So did Trip. All his kids were all right in their own way.

* * *

Dante sat in an Irish themed pub not far from the room where he stayed. He and T'Mir had enjoyed several outing together since their first day, but she wasn't yet comfortable enough to introduce her parents to him. So, she had brought Hank to her evening them. That suited Dante just fine.

He stared into the golden beer that he drank. It tasted good to him, though not as good as Romulan ale.

When the time was right, he would invite T'Mir for a romantic getaway. She would tell Hank that they would be gone for a few days. Nobody would miss her until it was too late.


	9. Chapter 8

Dante was a highly trained intelligence officer. He could speak fifteen languages, most with almost no accent. He knew ways to extract information that would give Klingons nightmares. He knew six ways to kill a humanoid with his bare hands, three of which would leave no marks.

Dante could handle himself in a crisis. What he could not handle was a beach outing. The realization hit him as he looked in the mirror, and he realized he wore swim trunks, flip flops and a cotton shirt which clung to his body in a way that would have bothered him, except that he would be expected to remove the shirt when he arrived at the beach with T'Mir and Hank. Dante had handled the excursions to restaurants and coffee shops with T'Mir. They had gone to view a film together. They had also viewed several films at Hank's apartment on his large video screen, with Hank as their chaperone. Dante hadn't just handled the outings, he'd enjoyed them. Any peculiarities that either Hank or T'Mir noticed, Dante passed off as a product of his having been raised on a far-flung colony.

The intelligence service had briefed him on the human fascination with water-based recreation. On top of that, his mother had told him stories of her childhood, when her parents had lived on a giant lake filled with fish and other wildlife. She had often gone swimming and on boating excursions. T'Mir's father had also been raised with a love of water recreation, and so she liked to spend time at the water. Apparently, humans found it relaxing - despite the presence of large man-eating fish, poisonous creatures that simply floated on the water and the threat of drowning. Humans apparently had more mettle that Romulans generally believed.

Suddenly, Dante's communication device beeped. Disguised as a standard human PADD, he tapped into it. It lit up. Dante looked at the decrypted communication, and he suppressed a bit of fear. The higher ups were becoming impatient with his excuses, and they wanted him to grab T'Mir immediately.

He typed in a tersely worded explanation, that he would soon convince her to leave voluntarily in such a manner that no one would pursue her until they were firmly in Romulan space.

He sent the message, and he glanced at the mirror again. The beach waited for him. He just wished his training had prepared him.

* * *

"You could slow down just a bit," said Hank smoothly, as they tore through the streets in T'Mir's jeep.

"We'll never find a close parking spot if we don't leave soon, and besides, Dante is waiting for us," she replied.

"Mr. Wonderful doesn't care. I don't think he likes the beach, being a boomer and all. He's just coming with us to spend time with you. And probably check you out in your bathing suit," replied Hank.

"That's why I bought a new one," replied T'Mir as she parked in front on Dante's building. "It's a blue two-piece."

She unbuckled herself, but Hank barked at her. "Don't you dare go to his door. You send him a message. Going to his door makes you look easy."

T'Mir rolled her eyes, but she grabbed her communicator and sent Dante a message they were outside. "Happy?" she asked.

"Ecstatic," replied Hank. "I'm enjoying living vicariously through you. Men of mystery never fall for me. Only men of transparency. And they only fall for an evening," sighed Hank, "by morning the magic is gone."

T'Mir heard the hurt in Hank's voice, and she leaned over and hugged him. "Maybe you need to try and meet guys somewhere else besides a bar...it might help...you do deserve happiness," she said.

Hank squeezed her. "Of course, I could turn straight and go out with you," he said loudly, with a laugh. T'Mir broke the hug, and she turned and saw Dante standing there. She playfully socked Hank, and she smiled at Dante, who looked amazing in his beachwear.

"He's kidding," she said.

"I know," said Dante, who to her surprise winked at Hank as he climbed in the back of the jeep. "Let's get going," he said. "As long as you two can assure me that sharks are not a serious danger. I will be fine."

"You'll be fine. They only eat a couple of humans a year," T'Mir replied as she put the jeep in gear, and they were off.

* * *

As he sat on a towel, Hank thought the day couldn't have been more perfect for the beach. Balmy and about 70 degrees, though the water was cool enough so that swimming wouldn't have been that pleasant, but to lay on sand was heavenly. Hank looked around at the relatively thin crowd, and he was totally grateful that he didn't have a real job.

Hank's eyes looked a few feet away, where T'Mir was using a twig to carve a picture in the sand, and Dante was watching her intently. He really _was_ a handsome fellow, Hank thought. He and T'Mir looked good together, really good. Like they belonged together. Something about his features struck Hank as vaguely Vulcan. A strange thought passed through Hank's mind. He wondered if Dante had Vulcan blood in his veins, though that seemed implausible.

Hank inhaled. He was just being dramatic. Humans had a great diversity in their features. More likely, Dante had Icelandic ancestors or something like that. In any case, Hank was happy that T'Mir had found a guy she liked, and that the guy didn't mind Hank as the third wheel.

Life felt good.

"Henry Archer? Is that you?"

Hank turned, and he saw a petite dark hard woman and a small child. He immediately recognized her.

"Professor Sato?" he said. "What brings you this far north?"

Hoshi Sato smiled. "A day at the beach...same as you. It's semester break, remember?"

Hank stood up. "Hi, Malcolm," he said to her son. Malcolm, Jr.

"You're not here alone are you?" asked Professor Sato, looking around.

"No," said Hank. "I'm here with T'Mir and her...friend." Hank bit his lip. The way he used the term friend had been pretty transparent, and he knew T'Mir didn't want her mom and dad to know about Dante yet. Professor's Sato's husband was one of T'Mir's father's best friends. Word would get back to them.

Professor Sato looked over, and she smiled. At some point, T'Mir noticed her and waved. She got to her feet, took Dante's hand, and the two of them walked over.

"Hello, T'Mir," said Professor Sato. "Malcolm, you remember Captain Tucker and T'Pol's daughter, T'Mir."

Little Malcolm nodded his head. "You're the artist," he said shyly.

T'Mir leaned over and smiled. "Yes, and I was just drawing on the sand. Would you like to come see? If your mom says it's okay?"

Professor Sato smiled. "It's fine." She looked at Dante. "Hello. I'm Professor Hoshi Sato. I'm a friend of T'Mir's parents. And Hank's parents, too."

Dante nodded, somewhat stiffly. Almost militarily. He leaned over. "It's very nice to meet you, Professor Sato. It's also nice to meet you, young man."

Malcolm smiled. "Nice to meet you."

"Come on," said T'Mir, and she and little Malcolm dashed toward the sand drawing.

Professor Sato seemed quite interested in Dante. This didn't surprise Hank. She may have been older, but she had eyes. Dante was hot, after all.

"Where are you from, Dante?" asked Professor Sato.

Dante sighed. "I'm a boomer," he replied. "So, I'm from everywhere that's far away."

"That's poetic, Dante," chimed in Hank, "but I think she means specifically. Where were you born?"

Dante bit his lip. "It's difficult to be specific for those of us not born dirtside."

Professor Sato shook her head. "I understand. One of my oldest friends is a boomer..."

Hank glanced over at T'Mir, who was excitedly showing the boy her drawing. She handed him a stick, and she directed him as he began to add lines to the drawing.

"She'd never let anyone do that to a regular painting," said Hank.

Dante and Professor Sato both looked over. "It must be the very mutability of the sand. Her picture won't be around once the tide comes in."

Professor Sato smiled. "She's great with kids. Anyway, I'll summon Malcolm back. You guys don't need me and my son cramping your day out."

"It was a pleasure to meet you," Dante said formally.

"Likewise," said Professor Sato.

Hank smiled to himself, and he wondered how long it would take before word of T'Mir's boyfriend got back to her parents. Probably not long, which was probably a good thing. They were a close family after all.

* * *

The day at the beach had been wonderful. T'Mir had dropped Hank off first, and now she drove toward's Dante's place, and she pulled up out front.

"Thanks for a great day," said T'Mir, who was worried that Dante had seemed distracted on the way home.

"Thank you," he said, and he leaned over and kissed her quite softly on the lips. She expected him to kiss her deeper and longer, but he didn't.

"T'Mir," he whispered, "I've never spent any time on Mars. I've always wanted to go there. I was wondering if you'd come with me there for a weekend. No pressure. We don't even need to share a room if you're not comfortable yet."

T'Mir smiled. "No, I trust you. I mean, we could share a room...but I just don't know if it's too soon."

Dante took her hand. "We don't need to tell anyone. We can just take things as they come. Whatever happens."

T'Mir thought for a moment. "I sometimes go away to art shows and events. I could tell everyone I'm going to Mars for an event. Nobody needs to know I'm not traveling alone."

Dante nodded. "That's up to you. I don't want you to be uncomfortable with anything. You can even tell Hank. I'm sure he'll keep things quiet for us. He seems to want us to be...well, he seems to approve of me as your boyfriend."

T'Mir smiled. "He doesn't want me to be lonely. He knows I've been lonely."

Dante squeezed her hand, and she felt the peace she had felt before, but it was a little different. It also felt like satisfaction. Triumph. It was odd, but she figured she was just feeling what a guy would feel if he was doing well with a new girlfriend.

"Okay," she said, "When should we leave?"

* * *

Hoshi Sato practically ran into the house, sending her son upstairs to shower. Her husband, who was a highly ranked Starfleet security officer, was waiting in the kitchen.

"What's wrong?" he asked, recognizing the look on her face.

She sighed. "I ran into Hank Archer and T'Mir Tucker at the beach today."

Malcolm laughed. "Is that all? Did they encourage Malcolm junior to drop out of school and become a juggler or something?"

Hoshi shook her head. "I also met T'Mir's boyfriend. He had a very tell tale Romulan accent. It was barely there. He's good, but I would know that accent anywhere."

Malcolm stood up. "Is he a refugee? An asylum case?"

Hoshi shook her head. "As far as I know, there hasn't been one of those in a decade. And he's too young. He couldn't be more than one or two years older than her."

Malcolm nodded. "Well," he said, "we'll have to look into this. There might be an explanation."

Hoshi nodded. She hoped there was one, and for the first time in a long time, she wished she was wrong.


	10. Chapter 9

T'Mir opened the door to the transport cabin, and she smiled. It wasn't huge, and there were two twin beds against the window, with Earth below. Dante put their bags down and shut the door.

"I hope you don't mind the twin beds," he said. "I didn't want to be too forward."

T'Mir walked to the window and looked down at Earth, so blue and perfect from above. "It's so beautiful from above. Pictures and video don't do it justice. Was it really the first time you saw it just a few months ago?"

Dante came up next to her, and he took her hand. "Yes. It's been amazing to see my mother's place of birth. She used to tell me about it."

T'Mir squeezed his hand. She took a deep breath, and she said. "But it's not your father's ancestral world."

Dante looked at her, and his blue eyes bore into her. Her heart started to beat, but T'Mir resolved to continue. She couldn't keep lying to him.

"The way you always comb your hair over your ears. Or wear a hat. It's pretty familiar to me," she continued. "I know all the tricks." With her free hand, she reached up and brushed back his hair to reveal a pointed ear.

Dante sucked in a breath. "I wanted to meet you. I wanted to meet someone like me."

"I know how that feels," she said, "but you could have said something."

He squeezed her hand. "You'd have questions that I can't answer, about so many things."

T'Mir shook her head. "I get it. My parents are famous. Big heroes, and there was still an inquest. If someone thought you were augmented, it could get ugly. Plus people can be really weird about it. They used to call me a freak in school..."

She stopped talking. She expected him to be relieved that she knew his secret, but she sensed heavy and intense dread. She closed her eyes, and she did something that she knew was a terrible risk. She opened her mind to the visions that plagued her, visions of other universes, other timelines. These visions often told her things about people that she didn't want to know, that she had no right to know. She often saw terrible things. The noise of them threatened her sanity. But she opened her mind, and she saw a city on a far away world. Beautiful spires, illuminated against a violet sky. She saw Vulcans walking in the streets, smiling and laughing. She heard them speak, but it wasn't Vulcan. There were moons in the sky, and Vulcan has no moon.

She pushed back the vision. "You're not from an outer colony. You're not a boomer. Where are you from?"

Dante dropped her hand as though it had burned him. "What did you see?"

T'Mir closed her eyes. She wasn't supposed to know what Romulans looked like. Nobody was. But she knew, even though her parents tried to keep the secret.

"The Romulans," she said softly. "They took your mother."

He nodded. "I'm sorry."

She shook her head. "You could have told me. I wouldn't have said anything."

Dante pulled her into his arms, and she melted. This was huge, of course, but now that she knew the truth, they could figure out what to do.

"I'm not sorry about not telling you," he replied. "I'm sorry that you found out."

She was about to say something, but she felt a coldness on the back of her neck, and then a tingle. And then everything went dark.

* * *

Hank knocked furiously on the door of the Tucker house. He couldn't believe it, but he didn't have the codes to contact either one of T'Mir's parents via communicator. He also felt like he needed to talk to them in person. He hated the idea of snitching on T'Mir, but his instincts told him something was seriously wrong.

The door opened, and there stood Lorian, all square jawed and ice blue eyes. Hank swallowed. Lorian had always intimidated him, even when they were kids, and Hank had wished to be more like him so he could win his parents approval.

"Hi," said Hank nervously, "Are either of your parents home?"

Lorian shook his head. "They went to Vulcan with Charlie. My mother was summoned on a matter of importance."

"Must be nice for her to get back to the old homestead. I remember visiting there when I was a kid. Her family home is really gorgeous," replied Hank as he tentatively entered the house.

Lorian put his hands behind his back. "I remember the breakfast you prepared. Sugar cereal you had brought from Earth especially for that purpose."

Hank smiled at the memory. "I think your dad actually enjoyed it, and your mom was totally polite and cool about it."

Lorian relaxed a bit, and he gestured for Hank to follow him into the kitchen. "Truth be told, I think she probably enjoyed it as well. She has a sweet tooth that she lets very few people know about. It was one of the things that drew her to my father, so I understand."

Hank smiled softly, momentarily having forgot what brought him to the Tucker house. He took a deep breath, and he shook his head. Hank didn't know where to begin, or whether this was silly or not. He was beginning to think he was being unnecessarily paranoid.

"Is something wrong with T'Mir?" asked Lorian.

Hank's jaw dropped. Was he that transparent? "I'm not sure," he replied, "I think so. I don't know. How did you know? "

"You don't ever seem to worry about much, Hank," replied Lorian smoothly, "but you're always concerned when my sister has an episode." Lorian gestured for Hank to come inside, and Hank detected impatience from Lorian. "Is she having visions? The kind she can't control through drawing?"

"It's nothing like that," Hank said as he looked around the familiar Tucker kitchen. "She went to Mars with this guy she met."

Lorian blinked. "I assume this is a romantic relationship. Why is this a matter of concern? She is an adult."

Hank nodded, he started pacing a little bit. "It's the guy. He just showed up at her opening a few weeks ago, and he's like gorgeous and charming and a little strange. Perfect for her, really. He wasn't raised on Earth. And I don't know. He seemed real eager to get T'Mir to go away with him. She told me not to tell anyone where she was going. She's not usually like that. She's usually an open book, and when I questioned her, I just got a bad feeling."

Lorian folded his arms. "Perhaps this young man is pursuing her for her fame and family connections? T'Mir's paintings sell across the quadrant, for sums that amaze me. Mother and father place the money in trust, and the trustee is hardly going to allow her to support some starry eyed fortune hunter."

Hank put his hands in his face. "I don't think that's it. And what's weird, he seems really into her. But I still just...you must think I'm crazy."

Lorian went to the refrigerator, and to Hank's surprise he pulled out a couple of beers. The home brewed kind that Captain Tucker made and only allowed people to drink on special occasions. Lorian opened both bottles, and he handed one to Hank.

"Thank you," replied Hank softly.

"I don't think you are crazy. You probably know my sister better than anyone." Lorian paused. "You've been more of a brother to her than me."

Hank sipped his beer, amazed at what sounded like hurt in Lorian's voice. "I wouldn't know. I'm an only child, but I appreciate the sentiment. Look, maybe I'm wrong. I probably am..."

Lorian leaned over. "You know my father's small puddle jumper? I have the command codes, and I'm allowed to take it as far as Mars. Why don't we go and check on T'Mir? It will put your mind at ease."

Hank felt relief wash over his body. "You'd do that for me?"

Lorian shrugged. "She's my sister, and whatever the situation with her boyfriend is, he should know that she has friends and family who love her."

* * *

Dante couldn't believe it. The incompetent Mars maintenance crew was still waiting on the part that he needed in order begin his journey. He knew better than to leave without permission. His small transport ship had been specifically chosen for its ubiquity, and the fact that its presence would be virtually unnoticed.

He stared at the sarcophagus, a twinge of guilt hitting him. He had already resolved to advocate for T'Mir once they got to Romulus, perhaps even claim her as a mate. He certainly wasn't going to let anyone harm her. They just needed to study her, make use of her extraordinary mind. They would never damage such a precious commodity.

Dante checked the bio readings for the fiftieth time that day, but this time he saw something that concerned him. The brain activity should have been even, slow. She was in stasis after all, but that's not what he saw. The data indicated a racing mind. The numbers seemed to be getting worse, too.

Dante ran a finger across the panel, wondering if there was something wrong with the instruments. But he didn't think so. He stared at the screen as the numbers got worse and worse, and his stomach began to turn.

Eventually, it wasn't just T'Mir's mind, but her body that started to show signs of heavy stress. Her vitals were above normal. Alarms began scream out at Dante. It wouldn't be long before she was taken out of stasis automatically.

But that might be too late. Dante punched the code in to revive her, consequences be damned.

* * *

Hank paced. He'd always hated space travel because there was always so much stupid, awkward time. His dad always made it out like it was non stop excitement, but what it really was was a lot of waiting, while _awkwardly_ cooped up with people who didn't like you.

And when he waited, Hank began to second guess himself. "I bet you think I'm crazy," he said to Lorian, who was in the pilot's chair.

Lorian's eyebrow raised up, and Hank thought he detected a tell tale smile. Shades of Lorian's human side, which made him, well, seem far more _human_ to Hank.

Lorian stood up. "I hope you don't wear a hole in the floor of my father's ship."

Hank shrugged. "I'm sure he'd enjoy fixing it. And you didn't answer my question. Do you think I'm crazy?"

Lorian sighed. "I believe you are concerned with my sister, and although I believe you are being melodramatic, there is enough of a chance that you are correct that I don't believe we are wasting our time."

Hank shook his head. "I get the feeling that you think any time spent near me is a waste of time."

"That assumption is incorrect," replied Lorian, and he put his hands on Hank's shoulders and leaned over. He kissed Hank on the mouth. It hit Hank like an electric current.

Lorian's mouth was hot, and the kiss was firm. As the shock dissipated, Hank returned the kiss, and he melted into it.

And then it was over.

Lorian then returned to the pilot's seat and began tapping at the navigation controls, as though nothing had happened.

"Lorian," said Hank, "you do realize you just kissed me?"

"Of course I do," replied Lorian smoothly. "I've wanted to kiss you for a considerable period of time. I simply never had the opportunity before this because you are usually joined at the hip with my sister."

Hank shook his head, and he ran a hand through his hair. He was starting to feel pissed off. "You know, it's pretty arcane to live in a closet. Is it different on Vulcan or something? Because basically you kissing me is the last thing I ever thought would happen, and I've got pretty good gaydar..."

Lorian turned and his blue eyes met Hank's. "It's a little different on Vulcan, but I've _never_ lived in a closet. I told my parents I was gay when I was ten years old. They had decided to find me a Vulcan bride, and so it became a necessity to tell them why that would be illogical."

Hank's mouth dropped open. "But how come you never said anything?"

"It wasn't your business or anyone else's business. I wasn't looking for a romantic partnership," replied Lorian. "Since I kissed you, it is now your business."

"T'Mir doesn't know?" asked Hank slowly.

Lorian shook his head. "My romantic life is none of her concern."

Hank inhaled, and he suddenly didn't know if he wanted to kiss Lorian or punch his smug face. "That's stupid! Really stupid, Lorian. You know, she could have...she would find it...it makes you far more interesting. And then she would have told me and..."

Lorian turned in his seat. "And what?"

Hank paused. "And I would have gotten to kiss you earlier, maybe."

Lorian smirked. "I didn't think I was your type."

Hank swallowed. "What would you know about my type? You hardly know me. And we're hardly compatible."

Lorian tapped into the controls. "Autopilot is on." He stood up, and he looked Hank in the eye. "Compatible is a complex term. It certainly doesn't mean two people who are precisely alike. Look at my parents. They do share traits in common. Love of science and engineering. Passion for their work. A love of exploration. Loyalty. But they are quite different in personality. Logic dictates that I should choose a mate that is similarly complimentary."

Hank sighed. "What do we have in common?"

Lorian thought for a moment. "We both love my sister, and we both worry about her. We both feel pressure to live up the legacy of our parents, though I admit that pressure manifests in different ways. But mostly, I think we could balance one another out."

"Should chaos and order mate?" asked Hank.

Lorian leaned down again. "When they did, it created the universe didn't it?"

Hank felt himself blush a little. "That's very poetic. I didn't think you had it in you, to be poetic."

Lorian took Hank's hand. "There are sides of me that you should get to know."

Hank blushed, and he felt warm all over, and Lorian leaned in and kissed him again.


	11. Chapter 10

Dante held T'Mir firmly in his arms as they sat on the cold, metallic floor of his ship's cargo hold. They were still grounded on Mars, so the ship was not in motion. He wasn't quite sure what he was going to do when she came around, which by her breathing would be soon, but his stomach had become twisted in knots. By waking her up, he had made the decision not to complete his mission. He could have tranquilized her, readjusted the settings and put her back in stasis, but he didn't want to do that. He wanted to make sure she was well, and, deep in his heart, he knew he was going to send her home.

Her eyes started to open. Her face was flushed green and glistened with sweat. He held her tight, but he reached for a bottle of water he had put nearby. She was going to be very thirsty.

"T'Mir," he whispered.

She sucked in a breath, and her eyes flew open. She stiffened in his arms.

"It's going to be fine," he whispered. "I'm going to get you home."

Her breathing hitched, and her eyes were glassy. "I know what you are. I know," she choked out.

"I'm sorry-"

"I see it," she spat. "I see them. I see what they made you. I know what would have happened to you had you not come. I know what would have happened if you had taken me there weeks ago like you should have. And you _should_ have. They aren't going to like what you've done," she said with a laugh that gave him chills.

"T'Mir-"

She closed her eyes, and she started breathing heavily. "You don't know what else I see. So much. So many dark places." She was whispering, and her tone was strange. He wasn't sure what to do.

"Drink this water," he said firmly as he sat her up.

She took the bottle, and she drank, but then she threw it aside angrily. It hit the bulkhead with a crack, spilling water everywhere. He scrambled up, and he looked for something to mop the water with.

"How can I help you?" he asked calmly and firmly. "How can I calm the visions?"

He found a towel and put it down on the water, all while keeping an eye on T'Mir who sat on the floor, grasping her knees and rocking. Dante swallowed. He knew her mental state was fragile, all the reports had said as much, but he hadn't expected to see the evidence of it first hand.

All of a sudden, T'Mir took a pin from her dress. Dante took a breath. He knew he could divest her of it quickly, but he wanted to do it without hurting her or even scaring her. But to his surprise, she did not brandish the weapon. She instead used it to slice open her hand.

He approached her carefully, and he watched as she started to use her own blood to draw images on the metal floor.

Dante ran to a utility panel. He retrieved a first aid kit, but perhaps more importantly, he also grabbed a writing utensils that the engineers used to mark objects that they were to repair.

He ran over to T'Mir. He wanted to bandage her hand first, but he recognized that the wound was secondary. He handed her the marker.

"Use this," he whispered.

She took the marker, and she smiled as she popped off the cap. She started painting her images - which were extraordinary in their simplicity and beauty - on the floor. Dante gasped when he recognized stylized spires that were part of the skyline of Romulus's capital city, which she could have never seen.

"You almost took me there," she whispered.

"Yes," he replied, "but I didn't. And I won't."

She looked up. "Why not?" she replied. "You'll get in trouble if you don't. Big trouble."

Dante closed his eyes. He hadn't thought through the consequences fully, but he suddenly wondered if he would ever see his home world, or his family, again. His mother was dead, but he had a father and several siblings. The thought of shaming them filled him with great sadness. So did the thought of never seeing them again.

He was being a fool. He stared at T'Mir, and he knew that he had romantic feelings for her. Deep feelings. So much that he had already decided to marry her when he got her to Romulus. He could protect her better that way. He had told herself that she could adjust.

But for whatever reason, he had delayed. Dithered. He had stayed too long.

He approached her, and he reached out his hand.

"I don't care if I get into trouble," he said. "I'm not going to take you to them. I promise."

She looked up, but she didn't take his hand. She just continued drawing.

* * *

Hank opened his eyes, and he inhaled the crisp, artificial air of a spaceship. His eyes focused on a window and star scape. He then became aware of the fact that he was naked and there was a warm body pressed against his back and silken sheets. He remembered where he was, what had happened and he became very still so he wouldn't wake Lorian.

As he lay there, he thought about the previous day, and its surprises. He's always thought Lorian was hot and sexy in that laconic way. He'd always admired him, but this was a completely unexpected, though utterly welcome, development.

After awhile, Hank sensed that Lorian was awake, but he still didn't move. He just waited, until Lorian began caressing his arm and then kissed the back of his neck.

"Good morning," Hank finally said. "Though it's not really morning out here. It's fake morning. I always miss sunrise." Lorian propped himself up, and Hank twisted to look at him. Lorian leaned down for a kiss, which Hank accepted, but closed-mouthed and short. "I haven't brushed my teeth," he explained.

Lorian stared at him. "But you removed your eye makeup in the night."

Hank blushed. He had scrubbed off his eyeliner, assuming Lorian would prefer him with a more conservative look. He was about to tell Lorian that, but Lorian brushed his face. "I realize you might not sleep in your makeup," whispered Lorian, "and you are most handsome without it. But I always thought it made you look - attractive."

Hank's mouth dropped open slightly, and then he noticed a tell tale green tinge in Lorian's cheeks. "I'll stock up," whispered Hank.

Lorian reached around, and he entwined his fingers into Hank's. Hank felt a rush of something strange, a combination of peace and excitement.

"You might think this is foolish. But heavy eye makeup is traditional on Vulcan, among both men and women. So, perhaps I'm wired to be drawn to it."

Hank sighed. He felt absolutely blissful. "Why don't you wear it?"

Lorian gave one of his tell tale smiles. "Because, in case you didn't notice, I don't care for drawing attention to myself. On Earth, I dress human."

Hank bit his lip, and he grinned. "I can't imagine you not being able to walk in a room and all eyes turn toward you." Hank paused as Lorian raised an eyebrow at the flattery. "But, really, you don't hide your ears all the time the way your sister does. You're proud. I've always admired that about you."

Lorian sighed. "There's no point in hiding. I am proud of who I am, despite the unwanted attention."

Hank, who suddenly sensed shyness and even hurt in Lorian, scrambled out of the bunk and onto his feet, not bothering to cover up. Hank always hated the attention his parentage got him, and he wasn't hybrid. He couldn't imagine how it was Lorian, who did not enjoy attention like his sister. Hank looked at the chronometer. "You know, we have another day before reaching Mars. I'd be happy to give you the kind of attention you seem to like until we get there. "


	12. Chapter 11

If she hadn't been so angry, T'Mir would have been amused. She and Dante were sitting at a table in a restaurant inside the Mars Transport Center, which overlooked the reddish craters and catered to tourists and travelers who did not wish to pass through Mars immigration. Dining out was a bizarre thing to do with one's kidnapper, but they had to eat. Once she had come to her sense, she had realized she was starving and demanded food. Meanwhile, Dante had confessed everything, filling in the gaps in the knowledge she had gleaned from her visions.

T'Mir couldn't bring herself to call for help. After all, had Dante not had his change of heart, she knew exactly where she'd be. The thought made her shiver in terror. Moreover, he had destroyed his own life by showing mercy on her, and T'Mir wasn't quite sure what to make of that, except that she had no intention of calling the authorities.

T'Mir was drawing on a sketchpad that Dante had purchased for her. She sketched furiously, and she didn't look up, although the visions had calmed. She still didn't want to take a break from drawing, not until she got complete control again.

"Do you want me to order for you? There are several vegetarian options on the menu," said Dante softly.

"You pick," she said, still sketching. She was starving, but she didn't feel like making a decision.

Dante sighed. She thought maybe he would say something, but the waiter arrived. Dante ordered steak for himself, and the portobello sandwich for her. He remembered she liked portobello sandwiches.

Gradually, she stopped sketching and took a deep breath, but she said nothing. The visions felt under control, and she relaxed a bit.

"You should book passage to go back to Earth as soon as possible," said Dante finally, in a matter-of-fact tone that she found extremely irksome.

"What about you?" she asked.

The waiter interrupted them by bringing their food. Dante began eating, and she did the same.

"What about you?" she asked, more firmly.

"I haven't thought that far," he said.

"You can't go home empty handed," she said, suddenly realizing that he may have exiled himself from his home and family forever. Her anger dissipated, and she suddenly felt herself filled with sympathy.

"Take me," she said. "Take me. I'll go. You said they wouldn't hurt me."

Dante took his final bite of steak. "That's crazy," he said simply.

"You shouldn't have to give up your whole life for me," she replied, "and by the way, I _hate it_ when people call me crazy."

Dante shrugged, but she knew he was thinking something along the lines of "if the shoe fits."

The waiter came. "Can I interest you in dessert?"

"What flavors of ice cream do you have?" asked Dante.

The waiter rattled off several, and Dante thought carefully before replying, "Vanilla, for both of us."

After the waiter disappeared, T'Mir leaned over. "I'm serious, Dante," she said.

Dante leaned over. "Melodramatic nonsense. You're going home to your family on the next transport back to Earth."

T'Mir leaned over, and their lips were very close. "You can't tell me what to do," she replied.

"I will tell you what to do if you need to be told what to do," he replied.

She leaned back, and the waiter arrived with their ice cream. She picked up a spoon, as did he.

"It seems we're at an impasse," she said softly.

* * *

As their little ship waited to be cleared for landing on Mars, Hank heard the communication panel beep.

"It's from Earth," said Lorian.

"I didn't tell anyone where I was going," replied Hank. "It must be for you."

Lorian turned to Hank as he tapped on the panel. "Beyond filing a flight plan, I told no one either."

The screen sprung to life, and the face of Captain Malcolm Reed appeared. Hank's heart started to beat, because something about the look on his face said "official business."

"Lorian," he said, "it's good to see you. I've been trying to contact your sister for a few days now, and I have not been able to reach her. Her last known location was a transport on the way to Mars, but there's no record of her entering Mars."

Lorian blinked. "Do you believe she boarded another transport before passing through customs?"

"That would be an explanation, but we have no record of it. We do know she was in the company of a young man who is not from Earth"

"That's her boyfriend, Dante Angelino. He's from the outer colonies," Hank chimed in.

Lorian glanced over at Hank, and he seemed to sit up very straight in his chair. "I have not met the young man, but by coincidence, Hank and I are also headed for Mars. I plan on contacting my sister when I get there. Or I planned to."

Captain Reed's face twitched slightly, and he looked concerned, and Hank knew damn well that Captain Reed was up to his eyeballs in intelligence work. Suddenly, Hank didn't feel so silly over his earlier suspicions.

"She hasn't answered her communicator, despite several attempts to contact her," said Captain Reed.

Lorian was starting to look concerned himself. "It's not uncommon for her to ignore calls. The romantic nature of the trip might explain that."

"Indeed," replied Captain Reed, "but if you do find her, please contact me immediately. It's nothing to be alarmed about, but I would like to talk to her."

With that, Captain Reed sighed off. Lorian stared at the screen, and Hank gently put his arm around Lorian. "Why am I suddenly very frightened for T'Mir?" he asked.

Lorian grabbed Hank's hand, and he squeezed tight. "Because your instincts are good ones," he replied.

* * *

T'Mir sat in the co-pilot's seat of Dante's ship. She looked around at the vessel, with its outdated controls and nondescript design. "My father would hate this ship," she said. "It has no flair at all."

Dante sat in the pilot's chair, looking out the windshield the transport pad. "The ship was chosen for its nondescript nature. It was supposed to be so unremarkable that nobody would notice it."

T'Mir looked around. "Well, I would think you'd have better taste than this," she replied, "but it does make sense. Nobody would suspect a ship this boring of anything."

Dante smirked at her, and she smiled. "What's it like on Romulus?" she asked.

He sighed. "It's so beautiful, I don't have words for it. The spires of the capital city are built with a quartz that self-illuminates in the moonlight. There's no city like it in the galaxy. And there's so much to see and do. Museums. Amphitheaters. Parks. It's hard to imagine anyone not feeling privileged to live there."

T'Mir shook her head. "Maybe I'd like it there..."

Dante shook his head, "I said stop that. I made my choice, and I don't regret it. Sleeping at night will be ample reward." He paused. "Besides, I will always see it in my mind."

T'Mir was about to mount another argument, but her communicator rang.

Dante sat back. "You should answer that," he said.

She flipped the device open, and she was shocked to see it was her brother Lorian calling. She answered.

"Are you okay?" came his voice.

She responded in the affirmative, and then her brother peppered her with several questions, all of which seemed to imply that he was worried about her. He also said that he was on his way, with Hank, to Mars, which made no sense. On top of that, he let slip he had recently spoken to Captain Reed, and he had inquired about her welfare, which was bizarre.

It all added up to one thing.

"Starfleet Intelligence suspects something. Suspects you," she said as she hung up. "You may not even be able to get out of here."

Dante stood up. "Explain," he said.

She blurted out her reasoning.

"We shouldn't panic," he said. "They might suspect something, but they don't know. If they knew, your brother would not have mentioned talking to Captain Reed."

But T'Mir was already panicking. She couldn't imagine what they would do to Dante, if they caught him. He'd be imprisoned, of that she was sure, and she couldn't let that be his reward for helping her.

He looked none too happy either.

"I have to go, now," he said. "Even if this ship isn't fixed, I can get a transport somewhere, anywhere but here."

T'Mir felt panic overtake her. She couldn't just let him leave. Not after what he had done for her. She stood up and she flung herself into his arms. "I'll go with you. Let me go with you. We can find somewhere to go together, neutral corners."

His strong arms went around her. "I can't turn you into a fugitive."

"And I can't let you go alone," she said, her hand finding his and entwining her fingers with his. She felt his deep affection for her, and how he didn't want to leave her. The nobility of his impulse to leave her both touched and irritated her. She had as much say as he did. She did not want to be separated from him.

She loved him.

Their minds connected even further, and she was seized with an idea. A brilliant idea. She smiled to herself. It was so simple. She had the means to make sure they couldn't be separated. And if he was hurt, she'd be hurt.

He sensed what she was thinking. "T'Mir," he whispered, "I'm not sure..."

She smiled at him. "We're in this together. You know it."

With their hands still linked, she reached up and she kissed him, long and deep. And she felt a surge of triumph when he kissed her back.


	13. Chapter 12

T'Mir had been awake a few minutes, but Dante was still sleeping. They were both naked, under a blanket in the cramped sleeping area of his ship. She could feel the nascent bond humming between them, and she watched his chest rise and fall. She had no idea where they would go or what they would do, but they now belonged to one another, and she didn't regret that at all.

The bond had shown her so much about him. She knew how lonely he had been, how the other children had taunted him for being weak or being a freakish hybrid. She knew how that felt, as she has experienced it on both Vulcan and Earth. But at least humans were more tolerant, and she had also had friends who appreciated her. Dante had coped by becoming more Romulan than the Romulans, burying the human parts of himself deep within himself. His trip to Earth, meeting her, had unburied those parts of himself. That was why he had not taken her.

Although she had no regrets, she did feel sad. This turn of events would hurt her parents, and Charlie. Possibly Lorian. Hank would understand. But still, nothing was ever going to be the same.

Dante's eyes started to open, and his curly hair was mussed in a way she found adorable. She reached out and brushed it with her fingers. He yawned, and then he smiled.

"So, on Vulcan, we're married?" he asked.

She nodded. He grinned

"That's good thing," he whispered, and he pulled her into his arms. "I mean, it's a mess, but I consider it the upside of your plan."

She laughed. "We're stuck with each other, now," she said.

Suddenly, her communicator beeped. She crawled over to where she had stashed it, and she flipped it open.

"Hank?" she said. "I'm so glad you called. I have so much to tell you. Where are you?"

"We're on Mars. Tell us where to find you," came the reply.

* * *

Hank and Lorian climbed into Dante's small ship. It's maximum capacity was five humanoids, but four was a tight squeeze.

"Father would hate this ship," said Lorian, and Dante rolled his eyes.

T'Mir threw herself into Hank's arms. "What are you guys doing here?"

"Looking for you two," replied Hank, who was staring down Dante.

"Who are you?" asked Lorian. "Really."

T'Mir was about to lie, when Dante stepped forward and gestured for her silence. Normally, T'Mir would never let herself be silenced, but she sensed that it was a matter of honor that Dante tell the truth.

"Look me in the eye and swear you won't tell anyone," said T'Mir, and both her brother and Hank swore. Meanwhile, Dante scanned them both, T'Mir assumed for listening devices.

Then, Dante spoke very plainly and told Hank and Lorian who he was and what had happened. During the the story, Lorian was cool, like ice. Hank gasped, putting his hand to his chest and his mouth gaping open.

"You bonded with each other?" asked Lorian.

T'Mir nodded, and Lorian shook his head.

Hank smiled at her, and he leaned over. "That's really romantic," but then he was silent, glancing over at Lorian.

Lorian stepped forward, and before T'Mir or Hank or even Dante could react, he landed a punch directly on Dante's jaw, knocking him to the floor. T'Mir squealed, and she knelt on the floor and checked Dante's jaw for obvious injury.

Lorian glared. "Hank is correct, your situation is very romantic, but I believe Starfleet intelligence suspects you, Dante."

"I won't take her from her family," said Dante. "I won't run, but I won't be giving up any information either. I won't dishonor myself."

"No, no," said T'Mir. "I won't let them take you. I won't." She was starting to feel very very panicked, so much her breathing became irregular. Dante clutched her hand.

"There's no other option," said Lorian. "You must run. I won't have my sister put in prison with you, and I'm not sure we can prevent that since you two decided to _bond_."

"But..." whispered T'Mir.

"It won't be forever," replied Lorian. "Dante is half human. That means he's a citizen of Earth, whether he knows it or not. He has rights, but now is simply not the proper time to assert them. We're not in a position to negotiate now. Once we find out what Starfleet knows, we'll figure out a proper path."

Dante stood up. "We'll need to make it look like I've been killed or captured. My people will be less likely to send someone to attempt to retrieve her if they don't know the truth. Plus there will be less dishonor as far as my family is concerned."

Lorian nodded. He looked around the ship. "It won't be to hard to figure out a way for this ship to have an accident, but we should do it outside the range of Earth authorities."

Dante nodded. "That can be arranged. It has a very sensitive self destruct."

Lorian started pacing in the cramped space, and T'Mir recognized his mind was working on a plan.

"There's a Vulcan colony about seven light years from there. Several dozen Romulan defectors were settled there under Vulcan identities during the war. All the better to keep the big secret about your people's origins. Once there, we can rig something up about your existence being kept a secret because you are a hybrid. As long as Starfleet's knowledge of you is vague, it should work."

"Lorian thinks your accent might have tipped of Professor Hoshi Sato," chimed in Hank, "If anyone could recognize a buried Romulan accent, it'd be her. And she was a little weirded out by meeting you on the beach. And it was her husband who contacted us. So if that's all they have to go on, this might help."

Dante nodded.

Lorian turned to his sister. "I assume you have the codes to the private bank accounts you keep."

T'Mir's eyes widened. "What private accounts?" she said softly.

Lorian stepped towards her. "The ones you've kept since you were fifteen years old in order to circumvent the trust."

Hank giggled. "How did you know?"

Lorian rolled his eyes. "T'Mir is a rotten liar, which is why this whole endeavor will be tricky. But she's never had motive like this, so she will learn."

Hank smiled, and he grabbed Lorian's hand. "You're so smart."

T'Mir's mouth dropped open. She looked at Hank and then she looked at Lorian. Then, she looked at Dante.

"You've got to me kidding me?" she said to Hank.

Hank beamed. Lorian smirked.

Hank's smile told her everything she needed to know. Still gripping Dante's hand, she sat in one of the pilot's chairs. "I think I just threw up in my mouth a little. What are you thinking?" she said to Hank.

"I know it's a shock," replied Hank, "I didn't even know he played for my team."

T'Mir glared at Lorian. "I did. He didn't think I knew but I did. Remember, I see all sorts of things in my head."

"So, why didn't you tell me?" asked Hank.

"Because I don't tell people things I see in my head. Plus, I didn't think...he's not your type. He's a complete and utter wet blanket. No fun at all..."

"Now, I used to think that, but it's not true at all..." replied Hank, as Lorian put his arm around him.

"Ewwww," spat T'Mir.

"T'Mir," said Dante, "Your brother and your best friend have...bonded. That should make you happy, especially in light of the fact they you will be separated from both of them at least for awhile."

T'Mir glanced up and Hank and her brother. Then, she inhaled a big breath, and shut her eyes. "You two really like each other?"

"It's a case of opposites complimenting each other," replied Lorian.

"Hank," she asked, "Are you happy?"

"Deliriously," replied her friend, "but I'm going to miss you."

T'Mir smiled, and then she jumped up and threw herself into Hank's arms. "You make him take good care of you."

"It won't be forever," said Lorian. "Mother and Father would not be able to handle losing you forever. Nor would Charlie."

T'Mir swallowed. She hadn't been thinking about them when she bonded with Dante. She felt a terrible pang of guilt.

"I promise, Lorian," said Dante. "I'll care for her until she's reunited with her family."

"Good," replied T'Mir's brother, "and if somehow she lands in Romulan space, I'll spend the rest of my life tracking you down so I can kill you with my bare hands."

* * *

It was only hours later that Hank and Lorian hugged T'Mir goodbye, as well as shaking Dante's hand, before they boarded a transport. T'Mir had had tears in her eyes, but she hadn't shown any signs of regret.

Hank and Lorian walked together to an observation deck.

"It's really quite romantic," said Hank. "She's always had a romantic streak."

Lorian took Hank's hand. "I agree, though I suspect there will be consequences we haven't yet thought about."

Hank inhaled. "I know you're right," he said softly, "but I also want to believe they'll be okay. She's been so lonely. She's not anymore."

The two young men looked out at the beautiful, peaceful red craters of Mars, and Hank told himself that everything would be okay.

The End


End file.
